


Denied Prophet

by snarksadoodle



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Cats, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Omens, Original Clans (Warriors), Prophecies, RiverClan (Warriors), ShadowClan (Warriors), ThunderClan (Warriors), WindClan (Warriors)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarksadoodle/pseuds/snarksadoodle
Summary: Decreed by StarClan themselves, the only way to decide fate for the Clans is to decide through two cats: one pure blood, one half-blood. Nutfur, pure RiverClan, and Brownpelt, his half-brother, who carries blood of a WindClan cat.Two cats: Nutfur. Brownpelt.One task: Fight to the death.The fate of half-Clan future lies with them.Featherpaw says it's their destiny.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my little Warriors pet project I've been working on since January. As of now, it's in its final few chapters but I thought I'd post my story here as well.
> 
> You can find the original here: ( apparently FFN is down currently, I'll put the link here once it's functional again )
> 
> I guess I'll be adding tags as I go. Wouldn't want to spoil anything that's plot detrimental.
> 
> So I guess... enjoy!
> 
> \- snarksadoodle

Stiff and scowling, the lithe black feline has posed himself out front a sea of reeds.

His unruly feather-soft pelt has bristled to fear and fury, raw emotion burning in his radiantly glowing blue eyes. The white dash on his chest remains unseen by the darkness, the moonlight casting shadows somewhere further off to the left.

“Show yourself, coward!” he growls, a mixture of kitten squeaky and warrior gruff.

The reeds part in a series of fluid motions, revealing a thick furred, orange tabby female of his kin.

“For someone who’s supposedly keen on healing cats, you’ve certainly got a chip on your shoulder, hmm?” she mews, tone lighthearted and airy. Her pawsteps carry her body closer and to her relief, the tinier cat relaxes marginally.

“Russetburr,” he identifies her by her childish timbre and unmistakable coat colour. Before her death, she was memorialized as one of RiverClan’s greatest medicine cats. Her actions had been revolutionary and had brought the Clan to victory in remarkable ways.

Featherpaw could recall the stories.

“I must apologize,” he adds, dipping his head in the presence of the legend. “I did not realize it was you in the rushes. I was led to the presumption it was someone meaning myself harm.”

“You have much to learn, young one,” Russetburr explains with an underlying purr. “And I don’t just mean your social skills.”

The black tom feels himself flush in embarrassment, his eyes lowering. “Why have you come to me tonight?” he asks instead of acknowledging his tendencies to using bitter words in the company of his clanmates.

Russetburr looms closer, guiding Featherpaw away from the reed bed and across the short trimmed grass to a barren structure that leaves a roaring in the young apprentice’s ears. In front of their paws is the edge of the ground where the massive gorge separates the Clan of the River and the Clan of the Wind.

A fallen tree resides as a connector between the two different lands.

“A prophecy?” Featherpaw turns to the legend, his ears perked inquisitively. He watches with faint disappointment as Russetburr shakes her head.

“An omen,” she purrs instead. “Look closer. What do you see?” She crouches down beside him, her thick fluffy pelt tickling his thinner coat. 

Featherpaw squints. His features contort into deep concentration as be begins to analyze what lies in front of his vision. Staring longer than expected, the black tom observes several noteworthy examples of the supposed omen. “An oak tree,” he meows quietly. “A brown oak tree that makes a bridge. A bridge between WindClan and RiverClan.” Hesitantly, his bright blue eyes open back to their neutral round shape as he asks;

“Are RiverClan and WindClan meant to connect into one Clan? Are we supposed to share territory? Become allies?”

Russetburr chuckles deep in her chest, highly amused by the questions. “No, young one. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Look at those nuts there -” her bushy tail points toward a pair of nuts - one stark pale, the other a darker, ruddy hue - and how the pale one lays on the ground undisturbed. The second, however, clings to the toppled oak, desperately hanging on for dear life so as to not fall in the rushing torrent below. “- one has split from its origin. The other associates itself with the tree. The tree and that nut are connected.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The nut and the tree are not a part of who we are!” Russetburr suddenly hisses, fury alight in her hollowed amber gaze. “Look at where the tree has fallen! The oak betrays us and has fallen to the enemy! The oak has birthed two nuts - only one of which has originated from our side!”

“The second one was created after the tree fell?”

Russetburr nods and allows her medicinal kin connect the dots.

“A fallen oak. . .Oakfrost?” His head lifts, confusion marring his face. Russetburr remains unreadable so Featherpaw continues to think. “She was a queen. . .but she only had one son. . .” He trails off in uncertainty as the ginger she-cat gives him a dubious look. “No,” he corrects himself. “She had another kit. Five moons later. You don’t mean. . ?”

“Before your time, a RiverClan cat named Oakfrost gave birth to a solitary kit,” Russetburr’s voice booms, almost as if she were delivering a prophecy.

“Nutfur,” Featherpaw’s voice has gone quiet, speaking the name to himself for clarification.

“A moon prior, that kit’s father died and Oakfrost fell into depression. She spent a lot of time collecting her thoughts near the gorge. Five moons later, she gave birth to another kit.”

“Brownpaw,” the black furred apprentice murmurs again, eyes shaping like the moon as a dawn of realization creeps down his spine. He jolts and yells;

“Oakfrost took on a WindClan mate!”

Russetburr nods, her anger sated. “In her lonely, heartbroken state, she fell head over heels for a WindClan warrior and disgraced the name of RiverClan. She used that very oak bridge to cross and meet with him. After the kit’s birth, moons later, she caught a case of greencough and died in her sleep.”

“I recall,” Featherpaw remembers the time back in the nursery a few moons after when an ill queen had taken refuge in the medicine den. She had never emerged since that night.

“So I say again,” Russetburr clears her throat. “Oakfrost disgraced the name of RiverClan. Flouncing with the enemy is just as heinous as the maggot spawn the forbidden relationship produced.”

“Half-Clan,” Featherpaw curls his lip at the title, knowing the implications. It’s a disgusting name - fit for the disgusting offspring. Only a cat so low would ever dream of dishonor. It brought shame and blame to the family and the Clan as a whole. They were mocked and ridiculed as a result of their genetics. Half-Clanners were outer-family bred worms who held no suitable place in Clan society.

There was a rule in the code to prevent such monstrosities from happening in the first place.

“What can I do about it?” With a growl, his eyes narrow and harden akin to ice chips. “Oakfrost and both of her mates are all dead, I presume.”

“Nothing violent if that’s what you’re implying,” the fluffy female snorts. “You’ll represent our kind with class, thank you very much. Medicine cats do not shed blood upon their clanmates.”

Featherpaw blinks. “Then how am I supposed to do anything about the scourge in our Clan?”

“Half-Clanners are indeed a scourge,” Russetburr ignores his question at first. “But StarClan has their ways. I have discussed this with many cats and we have decided to put it to a test. Particularly, in this situation, we have reached the conclusion for a fight to death.”

“Death?” Featherpaw sounds shocked.

“But of course,” Russetburr chimes, her voice now like a shrill bell. “Your job - your duty as a medicine cat - is to speak with the accused and inform them that it is StarClan’s will for a death. Both will fight and one shall die. The victor decides the fate of the Clans. Half-Clanners are abominations. However, if the tainted manages to win, they prove us and the code wrong. No longer will they be glared down upon with righteous fury and blame. This is not just a battle of win or lose - this is a battle for the fate of the Clans.”

The black tom blinks slowly. “What of the victor if he is pure blooded?”

“Life goes on and the code remains unchanged. Half-Clan fiends remain the taints in society and pure bloods will reign with power in their souls. StarClan will see to that.” Russetburr smiles at the young medicine cat’s hesitation. “It’s their destiny, young one. Life and death is a careful balance. We’re only correcting the scale.”

His head low, Featherpaw weighs his options over the course of what has been said.

StarClan demands death.

StarClan demands balance.

It is not murder.

It is StarClan’s will.

“As my duty as role of medicine cat, I will carry out StarClan’s will. One of the brothers will die and appease you. I promise.”


	2. Allegiances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decreed by StarClan themselves, the only way to decide fate for the Clans is to decide through two cats: one pure blood, one half-blood. 
> 
> Nutfur, pure RiverClan, and Brownpelt, his half-brother, who carries blood of a WindClan cat. 
> 
> Two cats: Nutfur. Brownpelt. 
> 
> One task: Fight to the death. 
> 
> The fate of half-Clan future lies with them. 
> 
> Featherpaw says it's their destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a quick Allegiances update. As per the Warriors norm, you gotta know the cat cast. Or at least the important ones

_ALLEGIANCES_

 

**RiverClan**

Leader: Pikestar - bulky, brown ticked tabby tom; pine green eyes

Deputy: Shallowfern - dark gray she-cat with a white underbelly; green eyes

Medicine Cat: Clearwater - blue-gray tabby she-cat; bluish eyes

APPRENTICE: Featherpaw - soft-furred, raven black tom with a dash of white on his chest; radiant blue eyes

 

Warriors:

Lashtail - ruddy brown tom with an unkempt pelt; graying hazel eyes

Frogjaw - large black tom with a white jaw; paled yellow-green eyes

APPRENTICE: Redpaw - reddish-brown she-cat; pale green eyes

Reedrush - thin, pale black tom; green eyes

Smoothfur - sleek, grayish tom; amber eyes

Duskbelly - dark brown tom with paler underbelly; amber eyes

APPRENTICE: Tansypaw - calico she-cat; one blue eye, one amber eye

Sunpath - golden tom; hazel eyes

Nutfur - pale creamy brown tom with slightly darker markings; bright emerald eyes

Ripplemask - thick furred, dark gray she-cat with a darker ‘mask’ over her nurturing golden eyes

Rainsong - blue-gray she-cat with white markings; soothing pale blue eyes

Mistbloom - gray and white she-cat; sharp green eyes

APPRENTICE: Shypaw - pale spotted brown tabby tom; gray eyes

Minnowrunner - pale gray and white she-cat; dark blue eyes

APPRENTICE:  Brownpaw - dark chestnut brown tom; hazel eyes

Splashtail - orangish she-cat with a feathery tail; green eyes

Cloudyhaze - half-deaf, fluffy white she-cat; bright blue eyes

 

Queens:

Daisybird - yellow-cream she-cat; bright blue eyes; expecting Reedrush’s kits

 

Elders:

Thornswipe - prickly furred, dark brown tom with graying features; wise golden eyes

 

**WindClan**

Leader: Flystar - light, golden dappled tom

Deputy: Haybristle - long haired, stark golden she-cat

Medicine Cat: Yelloweye - grumpy cinder colored she-cat; yellow-amber eyes

 

Warriors:

Haretuft - brown and white tom with tufted ears; bright green eyes

Cloudsprint - sleek white tom; golden eyes

Breezechaser - black-gray tom with a windblown pelt; amber-orange eyes

Gorsetail - fluffy pale gray and white tom; soft green eyes

Bigtail - tailless, large, poofy tabby tom; dark amber eyes

Shrewnose - tiny, dark brown tom

Heatherheart - pale, creamy brown she-cat; blue eyes with a hint of lavender

APPRENTICE: Sheeppaw - fluffy white she-cat

Deerspot - fawn dappled she-cat; big blue eyes

APPRENTICE: Pouncepaw - dusky gray tom; dark blue eyes

Whitewater - white she-cat; amber eyes

Sootpounce - sooty, black she-cat; ashen gray eyes

 

Queens:

Swallowflight - black and white she-cat (Larkkit - pale brown she-cat, Beetlekit - black and white tom, Berrykit - black and white she-cat)

 

Elders:

Ashface - battle scarred gray tom; amber eyes

Sparrowcall - tawny tom with black spots; yellow eyes

Quailjumper - gray dappled she-cat; gray-green eyes

 

**ThunderClan**

Leader: Birdstar - white and gray tortoiseshell; blue eyes

Deputy: Bouldernose - mottled brown tom; amber eyes

Medicine Cat: Wrentail - pale creamy brown tom; bright yellow eyes

APPRENTICE: Mothpaw - dusty gray-brown tom; blind green eyes

 

Warriors:

Cedarstripe - reddish tabby tom with white markings; pine green eyes

Silverhawk - silver tabby tom; sage eyes

Bramblenose - thick furred, dark brown tabby tom with a pink nose; pale amber eyes

Ebonyfoot - thick furred white tom with black paws; amber eyes

Sunstrike - ginger and black tom; dark amber eyes

Stingheart - pale brown tabby with darker markings; hazel eyes

APPRENTICE: Amberpaw - fluffy dull golden she-cat; amber eyes

Volewhisker - scrawny brown and white tom with long whiskers; blue eyes

Pineberry - nimble black she-cat; dark green eyes

Cloudspot - grayish she-cat with white ‘spots’; blue eyes

Flowerhaze - silver tabby she-cat; sage eyes

Berryclaw - pale golden she-cat with broad paws; hazel eyes

APPRENTICE: Leafpaw - tortoiseshell she-cat; bright green eyes

 

Queens:

Copperfur - coppery colored she-cat; green eyes (Branchkit - brown tabby tomkit, Hollowkit - dark brown tabby tomkit)

Icewhisper - short haired white she-cat; pale blue eyes

 

Elders:

Paleheart - pale gray she-cat; amber eyes

Embershade - ginger and black tom

Mosstail - scruffy black tom; green eyes

 

**ShadowClan**

Leader: Pantherstar - tawny she-cat with sharp claws; sharp amber eyes

Deputy: Adderstrike - mottled brown tom; green-amber eyes

Medicine Cat: Twigpelt - thin built, black brown and white tomcat; hazel green eyes

APPRENTICE: Needlepaw - spiky furred black tom; dark green eyes


	3. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decreed by StarClan themselves, the only way to decide fate for the Clans is to decide through two cats: one pure blood, one half-blood. 
> 
> Nutfur, pure RiverClan, and Brownpelt, his half-brother, who carries blood of a WindClan cat. 
> 
> Two cats: Nutfur. Brownpelt. 
> 
> One task: Fight to the death. The fate of half-Clan future lies with them. 
> 
> Featherpaw says it's their destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we start our actual story with more characters than the prologue mentioned.

“Nutfur. Nutfur.”

 

The voice sounds hazy, muddled by sleep.

 

Half incoherent, the warrior in his nest can make out the hushed, urgency in the hovering voice.

 

“What what, huh?” the pale warrior lifts his head, his own voice a mixture of rough and drowsy. His bright emeralds shine in the darkness, meeting a pair of glowing hazel. Through the darkness of greenleaf night, he makes out the silhouette that can only belong to one feline. “Brownpaw, what’s wrong?”

 

“I had another one,” the smaller tomcat announces shamefully, ducking his head in embarrassment. “A nightmare,” he then clarifies - just in case Nutfur suddenly became clueless.

 

“Don’t just stand there and gawk,” Nutfur grumbles, shifting his position to make room for an extra body in the nest of woven reeds.

 

Brownpaw approaches.

 

“Sit down you lump of fur and get warm,” the elder brother snorts at the younger’s hesitation. “We’ve done this before.” To his satisfaction, the lanky yet fluffy body of Brownpaw slumps down in the modified nest, curling up in the warmth of the pale warrior’s body heat.

 

He doesn’t care what the others will think in the morning.

 

Nutfur will always be there for his brother.

 

Through thick and thin, family sticks by one another.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, what’s that flea-pelt doing back in here?”

 

“I knew I smelt something off in here.”

 

“You think if we talked to Pikestar, he’d do something about it?”

 

“Nah, he doesn’t seem to care. Shallowfern might.”

 

Nutfur’s ear twitches, catching bits of the floating conversations that mill about the warriors den. A small growl settles in his throat, his lean figure tensing in a tighter figure around the slightly smaller cat. His stubby tail doesn’t do much in the sense of comforting wrapping like most cats’ tails but the tiny nuzzle is good enough.

 

“Fish-dirt, he’s awake.”

 

“Out out out.”

 

The hushed voices fade, followed with the rustling of the fronds of the den entrance.

 

A cold nose brushes up against the pale cat’s neck, bringing him away from his dreamy haze.

 

“I’m better now,” Brownpaw explains with an appreciative smile. “Thanks for letting me stay here again. I know the other warriors don’t like me in here.”

 

Nutfur snorts. “Their problem, not mine.”

 

Suddenly, a head pokes in through the foliage, distressed and vaguely upset. It’s a pale gray and white head with plain blue eyes that just speak as the common Minnowrunner. Her ears are pinned against her skull in disatisfaction, meowing;

 

“There you are, Brownpaw. I’ve been looking for you. Hurry up. Redpaw and Shypaw are already out into the clearing.”

 

“We’re training with them?” Brownpaw asks, half disappointed half noncommitted.

 

“Yes!” the exasperated she-cat sighs breathlessly, urging her apprentice away from the confines of the warriors den. Her head pulls away from the den barrier and the brown tom is quick to follow, awkward long limbs sending him sprawling out of the nest and tumbling through the fronds without so much as a word to his sibling.

 

Not that Nutfur seems to notice. His mind is still a muddle of early morning thoughts. Perhaps he shouldn’t have snuck in that extra trout in last night’s meal. At this rate, he’d end up in Clearwater’s den with a case of major stomach cramps due to eating too much. He doubts the tabby would be very happy with the young warrior. Especially since he was already on thin ice with her for accidentally knocking over a pile of her neatly assorted herb stacks.

 

Before he can be called out from his nest, charged of laziness, Nutfur sets to a quick grooming of his short and ruggedly handsome coat before walking out in controlled steps and allowing the light to bathe his already pale fur. He forces his gaze away from the emerging post-dawn light, a serene composition of morning glow and midday heat. Biting his tongue, he stifles an oncoming yawn in order to present himself as healthy.

 

Either Shallowfern would complain he didn’t get enough sleep, or that he slept for too long. Either way, it affected his performance in the field and the deputy wasn’t about to let that slip through her claws.

 

With his eyes adjusted to the levels of light, Nutfur pads around the outskirts of the camp’s central clearing, catching sight of the mentors and apprentices gathered over in front of the fresh kill pile. Reminding himself of his already questionable stomach, the pale tomcat foregoes a morning snack and opts to simply leave. His pink nose twitches in the morning breeze, catching a whiff of musty, cold smell.

 

“Rain?” he questions to himself, lifting his slender crown to the horizon in brief inspection of the sky. With squinting eyes, he scans the endless sea of blue for any signs of an oncoming storm. A frown mars his face when there isn’t a cloud in sight. His spine prickles curiously, wary of any unusual phenomenon in the future as his muscled frame angles itself toward the far stepping stones.

 

He barely makes it a few fox lengths before the young warrior can sense a shift in the air. If moons of perception training taught him anything, Nutfur could certainly pick out the difference between a solitary set of paws and when a secondary pair joined.

 

He remains unfazed, leaving his pursuer to assume he hasn’t noticed their presence. Casually, he cranes his ear behind his cranium, passing it off as a quick stretch as he does it with the other ear. His steps slow, clearing more passages of silence in order for the warrior to hear shorter strides that scuffle against the earth.

 

_Short legs,  quick breaths, limited tracking abilities._

 

“Tansypaw. Turn back,” Nutfur slows to a halt, listening as the dirt behind him shuffles.

 

“Aw, come on, Nutfur!” a childish female groans from the rear. “You never even looked behind you!”

 

“Thank Lashtail for his moons of wisdom teaching,” the tomcat purrs, finally turning around to bask in the sights of the young calico. “I learned from the best on the skills of tracking. That includes knowing if someone is tailing you.”

 

The she-cat sighs, slumping to her haunches. “What gave me away this time?”

 

“Your pawsteps weren’t in time. I could hear the uneven steps between mine and yours. Your breath is too heavy - there was an air shift.”

 

Tansypaw looked up to Nutfur. She was only a few moons younger, being roughly the same age as his younger brother Brownpaw. She greatly admired him for his strength and courage. His loyalty was unchallenged and Tansypaw liked his charismatic personality. Even under the influence of a potential threat, the young warrior remained unmoved and resumed his normal pattern as if nothing was wrong. Plenty of she-cats were also introduced to his charm and irresistible nature.

 

“Alright, I told you what you need to fix,” Nutfur waves his paw in a shooing gesture. “Now go back to camp and practice.”

 

Tansypaw pouts. “But Nutfur!” she whines, jumping to her paws in protest. “I’ve spent all morning in camp!”

 

Nutfur raises a questionable brow to the bouncy apprentice. “It’s just after dawn. You’ve hardly been awake for very long.”

 

Tansypaw’s face remains stoic and presses further into a pleading pout. “Puh- _lease_? Can’t I hang out with your for the morning? It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”

 

“Spending solidarity is important to me,” Nutfur protests, a defensive rumble in his throat. “Clears my head.”

 

“I’ll be quiet,” Tansypaw insists with an added jump forward.

 

The warrior snorts, rolls his eyes good naturedly and turns back in the direction he was originally going. His shot, bobtail twitches as his crown swivels around. “Coming?” he questions, ears perked at attention. He smiles with amusement as the younger ‘paw chirps in excitement and chases after, close on his heels.

 

Warrior and apprentice pad alongside one another, leisure in their stride. The breaking sunlight bathes the land ahead of them with a warm glow, casting shadows from the looming plant life and other nature bound structures. For a moment, Tansypaw races ahead and disappears in the right fronds of the reeds. Nutfur pays little attention, though often checks to his side to observe the rustling foliage.

 

Just in case.

 

Tansypaw’s mother had become sort of a motherly figure to Nutfur and Brownpaw. With their father dead before birth and Oakfrost’s demise only a few moons later, the kits were informally adopted under ‘Uncle Lashtail’ and ‘Aunt Ripplemask’. As such, he owed it to the dark gray she-cat to look after her only daughter.

 

“Tansypaw?” he calls out to her, hoping for an answer within the next few seconds.

 

Silence meets his question.

 

Nutfur flicks his tail, halting in his stride. “Tansypaw?” he tries again, eyelids creasing with suspicious worry.

 

“Fish-dirt,” the pale cat curses under his breath before yowling, “Tansypaw! Get your scrawny hide out of the rushes. You are in a lot of trouble missy!”

 

As he lets his voice echo through the swamped foliage, Nutfur quiets his breathing. He picks apprehensively at the ground with his claws and scores marks into the dirt. Worry prickles at his spine, his short coat bristling furiously at the tips. Just as he’s inhaling, ready to howl again, a gray shadow bursts from the depths of the unknown. A sharp pain pierces both flanks, his attacker having managed to clutch from a perch on his back and dig their claws to the sides.  

 

“Grawh!” the warriors snarls in panicked rage, tossing away his attacker as he slams his back to the ground.

 

“Ahh!”

 

Nutfur stills, recognizing that shrill cry.

 

“Tansypaw!” he exclaims in disbelief, rolling to his paws to allow the younger ‘paw to grab a better footing. “What is StarClan’s name -! I was worried about you! What would your mother say?”

 

An expression of shame mars the calico’s face, urging her to swallow down her mistakes in humbled submission. Her eyes shine with guilt, easily falling into a bout of disappointment as she’s stared down. “I was only showing off my stalking skills,” she argues weakly in defense. “I wanted to show you how good I was at tracking.”

 

Nutfur continues staring, but can’t remain furious at the pathetic face the ‘paw has made. A low chuckle reverberates into the stagnant air. “You’ve gotten better. Now come along. We may as well practice some more down by the shoreline.”

 

Beaming, the calico sprints off in chase of the larger tomcat.

 

* * *

 

When they return, the majority of the Clan has found their duties for the day which resulted in a nearly empty warriors den, a completely vacant apprentice den and several cats milling about in the center of camp. Whilst out, Nutfur had managed to swipe up a fish as Tansypaw practiced her stalking techniques.

 

Come final assessment day, her mentor would be most proud.

 

“Pass that off to the pile,” Nutfur orders, exchanging the scaly creature with a smack of his jaws over to the apprentice who takes it eagerly. He’d accidentally eaten another prior, completely unaware of his previously upset stomach. Now with something new in his belly, it quite clearly affects his mood.  

 

He swiftly makes a break for the medicine den, practically darting ahead to avoid getting seen by his superiors. Luckily, his arrival inside is quick and clean, leaving no room for any issues as he nearly slides into Clearwater counting seeds.

 

“Nutfur,” the she-cat grumbles, swishing her tail to protect her charge as her gaze washes over the intrusive tom. “I thought I saw the last of you a quarter moon ago.”

 

“Just a bellyache, darlin’,” Nutfur purrs, easing away the tension the pair had built up over the past moon. “Accidentally ate a bit too much last night during the meal.”

 

Clearwater scoffs, sweeping away the seeds as she finishes counting. “Pathetic toms, always wailing for something or other.” She brushes past him and starts to head for the entrance.

 

Confused, Nutfur squints. “Aren’t you going to help me out?”

 

“I’m afraid my watermint stocks  are depleted,” the blue-gray tabby shrugs sympathetically. “I sent my apprentice out earlier to freshen up the stores. He should be back soon. I’m in need to check on Thornswipe. For now just settle down on your side and don’t move around too much.” Without any more words, the medicine cat finishes her journey through the alcoved entrance and steps into the light where she disappears.

 

Defeated, the wounded warrior slumps to an unused nest on the far right reserved for patients. He grumbles in pain at the shift in in his belly, stowing it away with smoother movements. Nutfur is out for only a few minutes when he hears the familiar shuffle of paws echoing around the entrance. His head lifts in expectancy. “Clearwater?”

 

The silhouette given by the light proves to be much smaller - and therefore not Clearwater.

 

Featherpaw watches with an unblinking gaze, staring with a vacant haunting feeling that sends a shiver down the warrior’s spine subconsciously. In his tiny jaws are the requested herbs and more, the leaves stark against his pitch black pelt.

 

“Nutfur.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed your reading, make sure to give it kudos and a review! Everything's appreciated! If you have any questions, I'll be sure to answer them in a way that won't ruin the ending.
> 
> And to quote a wonderful, inspirational person;
> 
> "Take it easy guys, gals, and non-binary pals."
> 
> Snark out.


End file.
